


Centuries

by naturalblues



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Clara has a special role to play in this!, F/F, F/M, Gen, I'm gonna have fun with this one, If you love River please do not read this, Memory Loss, PTSD, River Song as the villain, Rose Tyler destroying paradoxes to save the Doctor, Rose as the Doctor's wife, Sex in the TARDIS, Trapped In A Closet, YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW, breaking time and space to save Rose Tyler, fixing the first doctor, fuck your fixed points
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 23:07:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13177134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naturalblues/pseuds/naturalblues
Summary: A lot of the Doctor's memories feel like they're not real. Before she regenerated, she'd wanted to think about everything that had gone wrong, all of the ways to be a better person in the Universe, and had ended up remembering something that she knows she wasn't supposed to. But who would want to destroy the Doctor's memories, and force new ones? Why is she haunted by a set of numbers? Can she save her wife? If she does save her... which wife will she choose? The woman they did marry, or the pink and yellow girl that they always wanted to?





	Centuries

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is a prologue, and thus will be shorter, but in order to expedite this, I will do my best to keep all chapters under 5k. I want to really challenge myself with posting, we'll see how it goes. There will be blood, sex, violence, and River Song as a wicked, wicked villain. Rose Tyler will be the hero. There will be Doctor/Rose in multiple bodies. This will have a happy ending.
> 
> Thank you guys for always sticking with me.

  
  
  
The weight had always been there.

  
Except of course… when it hadn’t been.

  
In the times before, the times before the Time War, of course there had been plenty of weight due to his people and the things they had done… and were still capable of.

 

_“Remember your training in detachment.”_

 

_“No thanks, I’d rather feel.”_

 

His feelings had gotten him trouble from day one, and he’d been lectured throughout Academy that if he didn’t learn to shut them off, he would be miserable. That the turns of the Universe, the loss, the anguish, they would kill him. Love was a lie, and romance something given to women in many societies as something to play with instead of power. That all of those societies that were _lesser than_ and not as advanced, they were the problem and detachment would help them give a solution.

His society was filled with knowledge and power instead of love and sex and touch and feel. Books came before people, and children were political pawns. His society terrified him as much as any other, and if he were honest, truly honest… every despot he’d taken down, every wrong he’d righted, and every battle he’d fought had just been metaphorically fighting his own people. The Time War had wiped them out, but they were saved… weren’t they.

How…. fortunate. He still didn’t trust them for a moment.

The weight went between his hand and his chest until he had a headache. A PTSD migraine, no doubt. A flash in his mind as he entered his Tardis for the last time, and he could remember Lord Rassilon so clearly.

_"Cardinal Rassilon believes humanian life - the basic physical form exemplified by Gallifreyans - to be the only essential form of life. He rationalises that for the universe to continue existing beyond the 10’000 millennia indicated previously, the unnamed creatures should be destroyed. All life not conforming to Gallifreyan standard should be destroyed. To this end, Cardinal Rassilon researched life on 278’000 planets. Of those, 69’000 contained sentient life. To those Cardinal Rassilon sent, via manipulation of the space-time vortex, a self-eradicating set of biogenic molecules with enough power to rearrange the cellular structure of each planet’s dominant life-form, so it would take on Gallifreyan physiology and would continue to evolve along those lines. All other lifeforms will become extinct within 6’000 spans."_

Why had he wanted to save them again?

What was troubling was that he’d sworn he’d heard similar rhetoric from someone… a woman. No, not Missy… from…

 **Pain.** What had he been thinking of?

* * *

 

This strange weight that had radiated from his chest, and had felt controlling. It had felt like he was a Doctor born of torture, and he truly was one born of war. Perhaps it was PTSD making him feel pressed, angry, and ready to cut off his emotions completely at any turn. He tried to open up, and love, and care. It was just so hard.

After sleepless nights, cold sweats, and dreams of a horror he couldn’t even remember, it was no wonder that his patience always felt worn thin.

Perhaps that was why Clara had had to carry note cards to try to teach him how to be a person again. He didn’t have this... golden ray of sunshine with him. He dreamt about having this beautiful ray of pink and golden sunshine with him. He’d tried to talk to Clara about it, but she’d laughed, and asked him if he wasn’t sure it wasn’t his conscience trying to talk to him.

Every step he’d taken, every moment he’d walked the Universe, he’d felt like a robot -- playing to the dance of someone else’s drummer, and he’d had no idea _why_.

 **Pain.** Where had his mind gone? He couldn’t recall.

* * *

 

River would show up, and in his last body he would get so furious at her sometimes, had found her to be so _frustrating_ , but he often forgot _why_. Why was he so cross with her, again? He always had to think really hard about what mean things he’d said to her. He’d told her she’d embarrassed him.... had she? She... must’ve.... it just wasn’t clear. With his big Time Lord brain, he just couldn’t seem to put it together. He’d kissed her. Those memories were in sharp HD in his mind. But the other ones were so... blurry.

He and Clara had rowed a few times, he remembered them now... but even when she’d betrayed him the worst... he’d never become so angry as he’d done toward River. Because Clara was his closest friend, and he’d been frustrated at times by her, but she had a good heart, and tried to do good things. She’d just been trying for his hearts when they weren’t his to give.

Who had he given them to? A mystery, surely. A flash of golden roses, and his confusion once again reigned supreme.

 **Pain.** What…. Had he been doing?

* * *

 

He walked directly by a purple shirt, but he didn’t see it for a few moments. It had.... always been there. It’d come with the Tardis  Bill had asked him about it once, and he’d gotten a brief flash of Donna waving it around angrily and breaking his hearts... but why? Why would they break? It had only been a sweater. But for some reason, he’d found himself snapping at her not to touch it. Don’t touch things.

 **Pain.** What had he been thinking about?

 

He nearly tripped over something.

There was a necklace on the floor in the hallway. Amy had asked about it, and he’d been slightly confused, and it had taken him a while to remember what it was. When Clara had asked, he couldn’t recall -- just a snapped _“Don’t touch it!”_ and being so cross with Bill when she’d tried to clean and moved it that e’d had to rub her scent off of it by rubbing it on his chest and putting it back exactly where it’d been placed.

 **Pain.** What had he been thinking about? He was walking around the Tardis like a Madman.

Trying to be a better man. Why was he always in pain?

He stopped before the stairs, hopping over a pair of shoes.

The pair of women’s heels that River had tried to put on had sent him into a rage in his Eleventh form -- though now he couldn’t recall _why_. He just remembered shouting at her. She’d been hurt, and angry, and he could remember her kicking the heels, which had sent him into another spiral until they were exactly where he’d placed them.

 **Pain.** What was he thinking about?

* * *

 

River. Nudity after she’d regenerated. Right? .....Why was he thinking about that? He’d never gotten to know her naked.

No matter how many times River had insisted that he had made love to her, they’d never done that, not once.

Not…. that he remembered.

He had a visceral reaction to the very thought, even though he had the ability to casually flirt his way through any conversation. He hadn’t been a stranger to a woman’s touch in a few of his last bodies, or a man’s, at times. He had a libido in this body. He knew it, he would occasionally end up masturbating in his own shower -- which inevitably led to tears and emptiness.

It was not for lack of her trying, River’d done everything possible to try to get him in the mood, even with him waking up in precarious positions with her trying to get things started. It never worked. As soon as he’d realized it was her, the part had been over. She’d started multiple rows over it, and had cried, and guilted him, but he just hadn’t been able to perform. His body wouldn’t let him. He’d tried to force himself, to make this woman that he’d.... loved? ... this woman that he felt he had to make happy.... happy. But he could never go through with it.

After his fiftieth or so panic attack, she’d quit asking. She’d started lying to his younger selves instead, and told him about her doing this -- trying to prep him for an actual married life. A marriage bed. She’d said she was doing this for his own good, but deep down inside, he had a feeling that something was wrong. He suspected that maybe she’d been trying to create fixed points to make it happen.

...But she wouldn’t, right? ….But wasn’t that what she’d done, to try to win his hearts?

He didn’t have the hearts to tell her that she’d already told him these things, and knowing they were lies only made him feel better. They wouldn’t help her.

Every marriage had its problems, he supposed... but he’d never given River his hearts, not really... he was always distancing himself, in tiny ways. He wasn’t happy. How ungrateful was that?

 **Pain.** What had he been thinking about? Hmm...

* * *

 

What he didn’t remember was that every time he distanced himself and pulled away from River, he felt a sharp pain, followed by forgetting why he was even distancing himself. Every problematic thought would go away, as though the zap of electricity was training a pet.

Taking her to listen to the towers, he’d suddenly been overtaken by a vision of a white wall and himself feeling so defeated... his hearts had broken anew for one precious moment.. and then he’d cried.... why had he cried...? A human girl... in a blue leather jacket... she was with his clone.... yes, yes that was Rose. Rose... was a human.... who had travelled with him? He couldn’t see her face.

Must’ve been nobody, really, although his hand had stayed with her.

He felt nothing when thinking about her, other than pleased for the two of them. They were certainly living up two clone existences.

_Two clone existences?? Stupid Time Lord... only one of them was a human clone._

**Pain.** What had he been thinking about?

* * *

 

Something was being forgotten. He couldn’t sleep. He could barely eat. He tried to live it up, but he always felt forced to do things, and dead inside. He was only, finally feeling some sort of relief when River was gone... why? She was his wife.

Snapping, lack of trust, having domestics, feeling forced on, nearly stifled and choked... she was his wife. If he loved her, why did this happen? How could he be better? Why were they the worst for each other, and worse, why did they stick together if they made each other so miserable? Why? Why did he have to work so hard and take hours on end just to think about things that were so plain as day? All the medical scans in the world hadn’t helped, and every time he stopped thinking about the problems, even for two seconds of distraction, he forgot about it entirely.

These questions had never bothered him (that he remembered) until his last day, spending time with glass versions of people who mattered.... saving lives, and trying to learn from his mistakes from his past. He breathed in deeply, knowing he was only over-analyzing these things so he could stop being the worst version of himself. He could be better. If he ran into River again, he should try to be polite, right?

He began to name off things he wanted for himself.

_Never be cruel, never be cowardly, and never ever eat pears._

A flash of himself in his Tenth body telling Martha Jones not to let him eat pears made him smile softly. Oh Martha.... she’d deserved better than grumpy him. _Why so grumpy?_ He.... couldn’t recall. It was.... there was a loss.... there was a face...

 **Pain.** He couldn’t recall.

* * *

 

_Always try to be nice, but never fall to be kind._

He knew he needed to be kinder. So many people in his lives had needed him to be kinder, starting with his first life and moving forward. So many times when he could have taken the high road, so many times when his temper had gotten in the way, selfishness, annoyance, his urge to not be tethered down, so many people he’d hurt as much as he’d helped… he wanted to do better. There was only one good, truly good person in the universe that he could think of, however. He couldn’t see a face. Just blonde hair and…

 **Pain.** What had he been thinking of?

_Remember that hate is always foolish, and love is always wise._

He wanted to change completely, back to someone who believed. He could remember being someone who felt so good, so ready to put aside hate and hold onto love while listening to… to a song… no, no he’d been _dancing!_ He’d been dancing to Glenn Miller. He’d held in his arms someone that had made him a true believer again. Jack had been smiling, after making some comment… who was he holding?

 **Pain.** What had he been thinking of?

Oh, yes. What he wanted to be.

_Laugh hard. Run fast. Be kind._

Whose laughter was it? He could suddenly remember, by thinking hard, that he’d hardly slept during this life, each time he had, he’d ended up in front of the same door. When River was around, that door had been gone. But he’d always known it was there. What was in there? Perhaps some relics of the past? Something that made him so angry and bitter? Bill had made him better, even if it wasn’t her job to do so. She’d reminded him so much of the man he didn’t want to be and the man he could be again.

It’d felt like every day had been his darkest day, his most difficult day, his worst loss. He was done with being shat on by the universe as much as he was done with not appreciating the good things in his lives.

The door….

 **Pain.** What door?

* * *

 

Hugs. ….Cuddles. Nardole and Bill had both given him that. He’d thanked them both, for everything that they were to him. He’d felt like his entire lives had been brought back from death. His spiralling had begun to slow down.

He was ready now.

He could let himself go.

_Pink and yellow, I want to be pink and yellow..._

He was ready to find that door again.

_I want to be everything good and tough and wonderful and glorious… I want to be..._

He was going to open it…

Suddenly, he felt the pain of his regeneration hit all at once, and it all went golden after telling himself goodbye.

The tinkle of his wedding ring falling from his finger as it slowly changed, shrank, became other… was the first thing she heard.

There was a sudden sense of relief, of all of the weight in the world coming off of her. She stared at herself, and smiled widely. Oh, she looked just like her…

“Brilliant…” she breathed with a smile, feeling pink and yellow and beautiful.

She had emulated the person she most admired.

Who was that again?

* * *

 

No pain this time. Just her world going tilt as the Tardis was going haywire.

A slam here, a grip there, the doors flying open and she was holding on for dear life.

_Oh no, girl, no! Don’t let me out! I’ll fall! Who knows where I'll land, or if I'll smash to bits!_

The Tardis was in her mind, and it was hissing at her to remember. She needed to remember, she needed to save her…

“Her _who_?!” she shouted, but as she was clinging on, a memory came to her, and answered her question.

She could see Rose Tyler, in her mind, holding on to a clamp, but the power of a vortex had been too strong. Every smile from Rose, every laugh, they were blurring together and the vision of her was so overpowering that when she saw Rose’s purple shirt fall, she let go, and began a trajectory for the Earth’s atmosphere.

_This was going to be very bad._

As she was falling, she closed her eyes and whispered Rose’s name like a prayer. Rose. She could remember her. The reason her hearts were never to be given away was because of Rose. She loved Rose.

She. Loved. Rose. Tyler.

A flash of the room she continuously woke up in front of came to her mind, and she suddenly knew what was in the room, what her subconscious had hidden from her.

 _Coordinates_. Coordinates for where Rose Tyler was.

Why had she hidden them? Why had she married River if she was already married to Rose, if Rose was still alive and in this Universe? Why wouldn't she just go get her, if she knew where she was? Why did her memories of Clara get so cloudy suddenly? Everything in her brain was feeling like mush! Why----

She hit, and everything went black.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, before you ask, I am still working on Arkytior.


End file.
